


Mind the Gap

by superdanganisland



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Massage, POV Alternating, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superdanganisland/pseuds/superdanganisland
Summary: Pekoyama can't stand the way he's holding his arms like that.
Relationships: Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Pekoyama Peko
Comments: 6
Kudos: 132





	Mind the Gap

**Author's Note:**

> Am I back on my bullshit? Yes. Is this just an excuse to write something super, extremely extra self-indulgent? Oh, absolutely. Enjoy.
> 
> Takes place probably late into Hope's Peak, before you-know-what. This is not explicitly sexual, but it does toe that line.
> 
> (renamed shortly after posting, in case you thought you were going crazy)

Normally, Kuzuryuu kept his bedroom door closed. He didn’t need to, not for safety, not with the amount of protection he had at his disposal in their compound, and nor was he usually doing anything that any of their clan members would bat an eye to. It wouldn’t really make a difference if he kept it open a crack.

Tonight? Well... he’d like to play it safe.

He—they—weren’t doing anything _wrong,_ but Kuzuryuu liked to project a certain tough-guy image to keep anyone from having a second thought about giving him lip. The melted-puddle look wasn’t going to do him any favors tonight.

They hadn’t _planned_ to end up in this configuration, of course. That was an accident.

(If anyone asked.)

Earlier in the day, Kuzuryuu’s father had assigned him the mind-numbingly exhausting task of clearing items and furniture out of an abandoned building that once operated in their territory and since fallen into disrepair. The owner disappeared into the night for reasons that weren’t immediately clear, but it didn’t matter to them now. The building needed to be sold, and the Kuzuryuu heir was just the right demographic to join in on some heavy lifting with the rest of the young men, as they needed all the help they could get.

Pekoyama accompanied the group to the location they’d been given, but didn’t get to partake in any of the moving—she’d been posted as a guard to alert them of potential police activity nearby or squatters returning to their hideout. A gaggle of obvious Yakuza all in one spot would surely attract attention if they weren’t careful.

Everything had gone smoothly, of course, as her presence guaranteed, but hours after they’d finished for the day, she noticed Kuzuryuu walking around after dinner with a noticeable sluggishness to his step and pinching a spot behind his elbow. If there was one thing the Young Master had not perfected, it was subtlety. 

Any other time, she’d hold her tongue, but after a few more hours of watching him limp around the house, looking a fair shade of miserable, she decided she needed to speak up, and accept the consequences if she had to. She planned her route near him right as he was about to retire to his bedroom for the night, as if their meeting was by chance. She made her comment right as he passed.

“You should do a proper stretch, if you’re sore,” she said. Kuzuryuu whirled around, not realizing she was close.

“I’m not—how’d you know I’m—” he said, withdrawing his hand from the back of his arm. He didn’t know why he’d asked, because she didn’t need to answer. Her eyes dipped down to his elbow and back. “I’ve been doin’ proper stretches. See?”

He straightened out the arm he’d been rubbing and held it across his chest, holding his elbow up with his fist. Her expression didn’t change.

“A different one would be better, I believe, if your triceps are sore.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

There was a slight pause. “Above your head.”

He swung both his arms up and lazily bent one over the top of his head, holding the wrist down with his other hand. “Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

She didn’t look impressed—not that she did, very often—and sighed through her nose. She began the motion of lifting her arms up to demonstrate the proper pose for him before deciding to change her approach. This might be easier for him to understand.

She took a careful step into his space, keeping a close eye on his reaction. He didn’t move, watching her closely, his arm still draped idly over his head. She reached up to adjust his arm and paused, withdrawing a few inches from his skin. “I might… do you mind if…?”

He suddenly snapped to attention, and cast a glance over his shoulder, for reasons he wasn’t sure of. “Y-Yeah. Go ahead.”

There was another pause, and her fingers wrapped around the wrist hanging over his head, firm but gentle. She maneuvered it back behind his shoulder, pushing him into a deeper stretch, and his eyes squeezed shut as the burning sensation in his muscles flared. A few quiet seconds passed as she held him there, the only sound being his shallow breaths from high up in his chest. 

“This would have been good to do beforehand, for next time,” she said, still holding him firmly in place.

He blinked. “Uh-huh.”

He fidgeted in place, signaling he’d reached his limit for that side. Her grip loosened, and she guided his arm back into its resting position. Feeling uneven doing just one side, he raised the other arm, and wordlessly, she continued, pushing him back into a deep stretch. He swallowed, the dull pain in his tricep soon settling into a comfortable burn. 

In the few seconds of silence while they held there, he realized the feeling of someone this far into his space was one he wasn’t used to anymore. Pekoyama was only a few inches away, breathing steadily, heat radiating from her fingers where they touched. They’d been here, before—back when they were kids, back when they could still claim youthful innocence. Her gaze was focused intensely on him, her head angled just slightly over his shoulders to catch any changes in his expression. He avoided her eyes by focusing on the curl at the end of her braid, and found his attention was best focused at the wall instead of the midpoint of her chest. 

He winced as she pushed his arm one degree further, and she got the message. Pekoyama loosened her grip, guiding his arm down slowly just as she’d done for the other. 

By all means, she’d done enough. But as she pulled away, her thumb brushed his hairline, right near the shaved design in his temple. A spark of electric energy crackled up his spine and into his shoulders, sending static into his vision. He let the sensation dissipate, fading back into a lingering tingle, then rolled his elbows in front of him, testing his new flexibility. He hoped any remaining impression of the touch wasn’t obvious on his cheeks.

“How is that?” she asked.

“Better, I think,” he answered. They were facing one another now, their eyes meeting somewhere in the middle. They held there for a few seconds, neither wanting to be the first to break away.

“Was anything else sore?” Pekoyama asked.

He didn’t put much thought into it, and answered honestly. “Just my shoulders, I guess.”

He must have half-expected her to continue, to effortlessly guide him into just the right position to ease the tightness in his upper back. But a few seconds of dead air later, she hadn’t moved, and he became aware of the error in his wording.

“I-I mean, it’s not _that_ bad. Don’t worry about it, okay?” he sputtered, trying to fill in the empty void he’d just left. “It’s fine. If there’s not a stretch for it, I’ll just—”

“Not exactly. But there is…” she began, and took an uncharacteristically stuttered step towards his backside. “Something like…”

She wasn’t touching him. She was three-quarters of the way around him, waiting for an acknowledgement, a definitive statement to tell her she wasn’t stepping out of line. 

“Hey, I-I mean it. It’s okay,” he tried to tell her. “Don’t worry about it, alright?”

She didn’t answer him right away. Her body language said enough, and he turned the other quarter way. 

“I’ve read that… something like this could help, in a post-workout sense.” Her tone had relaxed somewhat, but not without a twinge of nervous energy that Kuzuryuu was able to pick up on. He kept his guard up.

“Peko, I mean it, you really don’t—you don’t _have_ to…” He’d nearly forgotten to breathe, the muscles his shoulders tensed rock-hard. “I’ll just ice it, o-or...”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind doing this sort of thing.”

She rested her palms on both sides of his neck, and he responded by tilting his head forward to allow her a better angle. Once they’d both settled into this new feeling, her thumbs pressed firmly into the soft spot between his shoulder blades and his spine, and the electric jolt that shot through his spine and into the back of his neck nearly made him gasp.

A second press—a more painful one—made him wince, nose wrinkling up, his back arching tightly in response. A high grunt escaped his throat, and her hands immediately jerked away.

“I apologize. Was that painful?” she asked.

“N-No, it’s good, I just…” He cast a glance over his shoulder. Pekoyama’s expression had thawed, but her eyebrows were knitted into a look of concern that she couldn’t quite mask. He motioned with his hand to the tight muscles at the base of his neck, speaking softly. “Maybe start… up here?”

She took a moment to calculate her movements, then raised her hands to his back once more, this time testing a gentle knead. When he responded with a gentle exhale, she continued, only to jump away from him just as fast as before for what seemed like no reason.

Kuzuryuu heard it a second after she did. A set of distant footsteps were clomping down the hall, just around the corner from where they stood. He flipped around to face her, ready to pretend that they were having some sort of serious discussion, but even with Pekoyama donning her stone mask once again, the unmistakable red tinge on both of their faces would likely raise an eyebrow. He had a better idea.

“Here, c’mon. Let’s get out of this damn hallway,” Kuzuryuu said, and twisted the knob to his room. She blinked owlishly, and followed him in step.

Pekoyama was no stranger to Kuzuryuu’s bedroom—there were still nights where she’d be posted not far away, nights where the clan had pissed off just the wrong group of people and a revenge killing wouldn’t be out of the question. She had nearly every nook and cranny of the house memorized to prepare for anything, but this was new. Comfortable moments like this didn’t happen very often between them anymore.

(If anyone asked, this was business-related.)

“God dammit… always got people always walkin’ around this fuckin’ joint. Can’t anyone just chill out around here?”

The door clicked shut behind them. It was easier for him to act natural when there wasn’t the imminent threat of family or clan members nearby, though there was a sense of familiarity enough between him and Pekoyama that he felt he didn’t need to uphold his venomous persona around her as much as he did elsewhere. Pekoyama was a tougher nut to crack, but the interaction in the hallway seemed to have softened her shell. He took a moment to loosen a button and whip off his tie, finally able to allow himself to get comfortable.

It was easier to resume their actions than they’d anticipated, a nearly wordless exchange based on years of interactions with one another. He sat at the edge of his bed, and following his eyes, she positioned herself behind him cross-legged, allowing her hands to return to his shoulders. The muscles in his upper back were still wound tight, as if he was unsure of how much he should let himself relax, but it only took a few gentle kneads for that last twinge of anxiety to be pushed somewhere else for now.

Pekoyama studied him carefully, allowing his reactions to guide her hands. His lack of subtlety was a great asset in this context. Every touch and movement was met with an equal reaction, whether it was a stuttered breath, or his fingers splayed on his knees when her hands returned to his tricep. Besides a few muffled sounds from his throat, he hadn’t said much, and without being able to see much of his face she worried some of the harsher squeezing was causing more pain than pleasure.

Changing up her tactic, she raked her nails gently up the full length of his back, testing his response. He arched himself forcefully, mouth agape, his muscles stiffening back up once more under her fingers. Concerned she’d overstepped her boundary, she stopped and leaned to the side.

“Was that alright?” she asked over his shoulder. 

Kuzuryuu’s eyes blinked open, just realizing his face had scrunched up. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Sorry,” he answered, allowing his breath to stabilize. “It’s… good. Really good.”

This had probably crossed a line long ago, but they were too far gone to care. This was new, and she had a lot to learn. She resumed, and for a few minutes, their world was the two of them, here in his bedroom, and that was all that mattered. 

“You can stop any time, y’know... if you want,” he said quietly, forcing himself into composure for a moment as she worked on his arm again. “You don’t gotta keep doin’ this for me.”

She expected him to question it. She was close, her nose hovering a few inches from his hair. 

“It’s alright,” she said, her voice low near his ear. “I wouldn’t mind… if you wanted to do something like this, more often.”

“Peko…”

Another knead, and he closed his eyes and let her work. She started near the base of his spine, pressing her fingers in loose circles and working upwards, unraveling the troublesome knots that were stuck there. Once she reached his shoulders, she creeped up his neck and onto the base of his skull, taking a moment to relish the sensation of his fine hair through her fingers. He jolted, shoulders raised, a small noise jumping from his throat once more. She almost stopped until she heard him speak.

 _“That…_ okay… keep doin’ that…” he said breathily.

His tone sent a wave of indistinct warmth to her face. She was almost glad he couldn’t see her from this angle, lest he thought she might be enjoying this as much as he was. He twitched again when her hands returned to his neck, likely a dangerous position for anyone else to be in, and she repeated the same motion she’d done before to garner his reaction.

Kuzuryuu’s mind went blank, replaced with white static, and he melted into her touch—quite literally. 

Without much warning, he leaned back into her, and closed the gap between them into nothing. Though caught off guard, she rolled with it, readjusting herself to accommodate him. Unfortunately, after a few moments of experimenting, they found their new position wasn’t particularly comfortable for either of them or conducive to giving a back massage, with his bony elbows digging into her skin and Pekoyama finding herself with nothing to support herself against. Whatever they’d arranged themselves into was likely better in theory than in practice. They both held there awkwardly, red down to their necks, neither wanting to be the one to say this wasn’t working. 

The uncomfortable reminder bubbled up from the backs of their minds that this was a far step more intimate than either of them were used to, even through years of close quarters. Without a quick fix, she worried he’d reconsider.

Not ready to give up on him, Pekoyama attempted to readjust under his weight, careful to hold him up while she did so. She pushed her knees out from under herself, resting them partially sideways, allowing herself a somewhat better base. Without her body to lean on, Kuzuryuu twisted sideways as well, and his slackened body ended up draped across her thighs. He sighed deeply, arms outstretched like a cat in a sunbeam.

If there had been any way they could still try to claim playful innocence, that had all gone out the window.

There was a brief, still moment where they both seemed to second guess themselves—maybe this was taking this too far. But one could claim they hadn’t crossed into sexual territory yet—that would be their line, for now. A platonic relationship could still probably get away with this. 

But this was business, wasn’t it? “Friends”... felt like a strong word, yet. She didn’t know what they’d call this.

She felt the expansion of his chest, head nestled into the crook of her leg. The clan didn’t need to know what happened behind closed doors, and Kuzuryuu seemed to be in agreement right now. Her fingers returned to his neck, and the nervous thoughts disappeared once her hands met his skin. 

His body had gone completely slack, the once-energetic jolts of energy fading into subtler twitches when she hit just the right spot, or when her fingers found his hairline again, something she was quickly finding to be a distinct favorite of his. As she ran up his shoulder one more time, he stopped her lazily with one of his hands.

“What...?” she said, then shivered. His thumb was circling the inside of her wrist.

“Relax,” he said, eyes partially closed. “You think I’m just gonna lay here?”

She nearly gasped. “Y-You don’t… need to…”

She stuttered, forehead creased, and jittered nervously as his nails ran up her forearm, just as she’d been doing to him. This wasn’t a feeling she recognized. She softened as he repeated the action a second time, allowing her to settle into the sensation. His fingertips were rough, but just as warm, and just as careful as hers. 

This was unexpected, but not unpleasant.

It wasn't like she needed to stop. She took her free hand and continued her own actions, running it back up his spine, and watched his foot outstretch. She blinked slowly, both of them savoring each other’s touch, and let her mind go blank for a few moments as well. She could get used to this.

With his eyes closed, she leaned over him, trying to get a better angle of his face. She wanted that quick reassurance, that everything was alright, and he was still enjoying himself. His chest rose and fell softly in front of her. Stretching further in, she was only a few inches away, catching a glimpse of his restful eyelashes and the pink of his cheeks, and—

—a loud, pounding knock came to his door.

_“FUYUHIKO—!!”_

He shot up in surprise, smacking the crown of his skull squarely into Pekoyama’s nose. The sting was immediate, the crack of bone on bone hitting both their ears. Her sharp grunt told him she’d just gotten the brunt of it, and he had to throw a hand over his mouth to stifle his own involuntary moan. They both hung limp for a second or two to recover from the ringing in their heads as the pounding at the door resumed.

_*knock-knock-knock-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK—*_

“Fuyuhiko- _chan!_ Dad wants you downstairs!”

It was his sister. Kuzuryuu rubbed the top of his head, and looked up to see Pekoyama holding her nose, just barely hiding her grimace. He shot her a look of apology, and she waved it off.

_“FUUU-YUUUU—”_

“Fuck off! I’m tryin’ to sleep!” It was the best thing he could come up with.

“I know you’re not sleeping in there! Come on, dumbass!”

The lock to his room rattled violently. He knew for a fact he forgot to lock it, which might have been the cause for his jump—Pekoyama must have done so when she followed him in. Someone in the room was smart, and it wasn’t him. He groaned and rolled off his bed. “Gimme a minute, then! Fuck!”

“Okaaaay~!” he heard her voice trail down the hallway. “Tell Peko I said hi-i-i-i~!”

His shoulders bunched up. She must have heard the yelp. 

“Grr, that son of a… God, she’s the worst!”

He turned around and sighed, his heart still beating a hundred miles an hour from the rush of adrenaline that was now beginning to fade away. Pekoyama still hadn’t moved from his bed, perched on her knees and hunched forward, gingerly rubbing the spot where they’d made contact. Kuzuryuu held a hand up to his own head, feeling his new bruise.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

“I think so,” she answered, letting her hands come back down to rest on her lap once she was sure she wasn’t bleeding. She was good at shaking things off. “It’s not broken, at least. What about you?”

“Yeah. That was nothin’.”

"I apologize... I shouldn't have been that close," she said, eyes falling to his feet. "This was my fault."

"No, it wasn't. I'm the one who jumped like a scared rabbit. And Natsumi can go mind her own business," he said, though she didn't look too sure about it. "Don't worry about me. It didn't hurt that bad."

It was a lie if he was trying to imply it didn’t sting, and somebody would definitely notice the welt on his head in the next couple days. Luckily, Pekoyama recovered quickly, but she’d definitely be feeling that one for a while. Living in a yakuza household did tend to be a bit unpredictable at times.

He turned to leave, but paused in the middle of his room to look back at her, not wanting to end their interaction on such a sour note. There was more he wanted to say, eyes lingering on her longer than she was used to, a hint of remorse on his lips. She remained motionless on his bed, her back forming a natural curve once more as if she hadn’t just taken a smack to the face that would have knocked most people out. 

There were more feelings to sort through, thanks to be said… but that would have to be done another time. He just didn’t know when they would find the opportunity for this kind of moment again.

“You should hurry,” she reminded him.

“Y-Yeah. Of course.” 

Some of that stone mask had been chipped away tonight. He fixed his collar and smoothed out his hair, looking back at her one more time as he put his hand on the doorknob. While she wasn’t smiling, it was something adjacent to it—a look he hadn’t seen in a long time. She nodded as he motioned for her to come, and hopped off his bed in one graceful motion.

**Author's Note:**

> what if.... kuzupeko... were NOT social distancing?? :eyes emoji:
> 
> Did you think I was going to let you off with a nice, easy ending? Think again.


End file.
